Mimic This
by Dawn of Chaos
Summary: The cycles continue on and on; memories forgotten and fights beginning a new. Relationships are lost and rekindled. For a Warrior of Cosmos, Bartz should be fighting those that align with Chaos. So why does his very being go against what he knows when he comes face to face with this man?


Unlike some of the other Warriors of Chaos, Jecht doesn't make it a habit to poke his nose into other peoples business. Normally he just goes on his way. Especially when it involves that clown – he'd rather not deal with him. But it does happen to be one of those times he can't just walk away.

To see Kefka skipping and floating around the unconscious form on the ground grates on his nerves. It'd be one thing if it was that girl he's always on about – the one from his world. Then again, Jecht is only storming over because he's granted the privilege of remembering a few moments with the young man.

Sure he would have done it if it was Tidus. But that brat isn't dumb enough to get caught in a trap like this one is.

Jecht doesn't hesitate in scooping up the brunet in his arms and giving Kefka a glare, "Find someone else to screw with."

He does his very best to ignore the shrieking and insults. He's probably lucky to have gotten away with how he's acting anyway. Not that the others particularly care as long as he doesn't meddle in more important affairs. He's no different than Sephiroth in one regard; staying far away from the other Warriors of Chaos and their intentions if he can.

The beads and trinkets jingle against the armor on Bartz's shoulder, giving some sound to the silent walk. Jecht can only wonder how the brunet ended up in that situation. Probably being an idiot, he's sure, along with the two others he sticks with.

It doesn't take long for Jecht to make it to the one area he knows he'll have some peace in. After all, the last time he checked on Tidus he was a ways off to figuring anything out. His bare feet soon find themselves slapping against the hard stone of the memorable location. Dark eyes look up, staring at the large ornamental broadsword stuck into the base of the area.

Idly he wonders if anyone would remember him – if Bartz would be able to remember him.

He quickly dismisses the thought as he stops and lies Bartz down, propping him up against the cool stone. Waiting for him to wake up, Jecht can only stare. He had brought the whelp here once. Rather Bartz had followed. He doesn't remember how long ago it was – the cycles are beginning to blend together in his mind anyway.

Jecht kneels down beside Bartz and grabs for one of the many potions he keeps on him. One can never be too safe sometimes. While he undoes the top with one hand he reaches out with the other to grab at Bartz's chin. The skin is soft and smooth beneath his fingertips as he takes a large gulp of the potion. Jecht promptly presses his lips to Bartz's, forcing them to part and allow the bland liquid to go down.

Or at least some of it. Slender trails drip down from the corners of his mouth but Jecht is prompt to wipe them away. Satisfied, he stands and tosses the empty bottle to the side. It's the resounding sound that has Bartz beginning to open his eyes.

"Nngh..."

Jecht huffs and crouches back down, pulling forth another potion. He waits patiently as Bartz begins to come to. The youth doesn't seem to notice Jecht at first. He's completely enraptured by the area. He doesn't know where he is or what happened after he was knocked out, but this place feels familiar. It's like a far off memory; foggy and distant.

"Hey, kid."

Bartz presses himself against the stone, blinking several times. "You.. You're… Jecht."

"Good for you. Now drink this, you could probably use the pick me up."

He shakes his head in response, "No, no. I feel fine, thanks though."

"Good thing I got the other one in you while you were asleep then," he says with a grin and a laugh as Bartz's face pales.

"W- W- What!?"

Jecht gives a slight shake of his head as he sets the potion down on the ground with a sharp _clack_. He stands and jabs a thumb over his shoulder, "Get going, kiddo, before I change my mind."

But Bartz is confused. He doesn't know how he got here or where leaving leads. His head aches enough as it is right now. Of course he blames that on the trap plus the beating he took despite knowing he shouldn't have been where he was to begin with. He lifts a hand to his face, rubbing it over as if doing so would solve all his worries.

Sadly, as his hand falls back to his side Jecht is still standing there in all of his half-naked glory. Bartz keeps his gaze anywhere but on the Warrior of Chaos. He _shouldn't_ look at him considering the rumble of emotions that always rush through him at the thought of the man. It's one of the reasons he's glad Tidus, when he's around him, doesn't like to talk about his dad.

Because Bartz can't handle it and he certainly won't be able to now.

"Hey, did you even hear me, punk? I said to get lost otherwise I'll regret saving your sorry ass."

Bartz swallows hard past the lump in his throat and begins to pry himself off the stone. The last thing he needs is to end up in another fight with someone who isn't going to help him obtain his crystal. He's nervous as he rubs at the back of his neck, "I.. uh, thanks."

Jecht merely huffs and strides right past him. He doesn't stop till he's past the sword and standing at the edge of the platform over the lava. Bartz peaks around the sword, hands gripping at it, as he watches Jecht. There's something solemn, maybe even a little sad, about the way he does it. To Bartz, curiosity didn't just kill the chocobo – it takes him for the ride of his life before dumping him headlong off the nearest cliff.

Stepping around the structure, Bartz continues to keep his distance just in case. "So..." he says while extending the 'o' needlessly. "Can I ask why you helped me?"

"No."

"Even if I ask nicely?"

Grumbling as he partly turns, Jecht glares at him. "Why would I bother saying anything to some idiot that can't remember a thing."

A puzzled expression crosses Bartz's countenance. He's _very_ confused now. Of all the people to say that to him he would never peg them as being _Jecht_. Bartz does the only thing he can do. He walks straight up to Jecht and stands next to him, leaning ever so slightly to stare down at the glimmering lava below.

Which is a _terrible_ idea.

There's a past memory that recalls him to feel disoriented and suddenly he's swaying. It's safe to say he's not very fond of heights but this is something entirely different – this is way _too_ high up. Bartz can feel the ground moving out from under him but he can do nothing to stop it except flail for something to grab onto.

Jecht reaches out, grabbing at Bartz's cape and yanks him away from the edge. Four steps away and Bartz is instantly clinging onto Jecht, the sturdiest thing he can find. Although there's not much to grab onto so Bartz settles for clutching onto the metal gauntlet on Jecht's left arm while the right one still holds him steady.

Bartz is breathing heavily, pinching his eyes shut as he tries to quell the fear. Looking like a fool is the last thing he's concerned about. However, Jecht can only stare down at the young man. He has very different reasons for beginning to try and pry Bartz off.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Slowly looking up, Bartz finally opens his eyes, "T… Thanks."

Jecht grumbles as he pushes Bartz away. The latter stumbles backward only to retake those steps, going straight for the stone sword in the middle of the platform. Jecht turns around, standing in front of Bartz so he's the only thing the man sees.

"Scared of heights, huh? Not much help for Cosmos are ya?"

Bartz's brows draw together, eyes narrowing slightly. "I can still fight!"

"Is that so? That's a surprise."

"Like you'd know anyway, you won't fight me. You wouldn't even teach me one of your moves!"

Bartz's eyes widen; all anger oozes out of him while it's replaced once again by confusion. He doesn't know why he said that or why he'd even think that's an option to shout back. All he can think now is that he's probably _really_ pissed Jecht off. Looking up at him, Bartz suddenly realizes how small he is in comparison. They both may be muscular in their own way but Jecht is the definition of a tough burly man that could probably crush your skull with one swing of his sword.

"I.. I, um… I didn't mean…" Bartz can't find his words or an apology to save his life.

Those piercing red eyes seem to burn straight through him and yet he can't look away. Especially not while there's a smirk drawing across his face. Bartz lifts his hands in a defensive motion, as if he didn't mean any harm. But there's no taking those words back.

Jecht smacks one palm against the sword, right beside Bartz's head. He looks to the large hand with his breath caught in his throat. "So you remember your promise, brat?"

Returning his eyes to Jecht's penetrating gaze, Bartz finds he's trapped. If he wasn't before he is now. It's hard to breathe much less move. He can only remain perfectly still until Jecht's other hand comes up, cupping at his chin. Jecht moves in close; past Bartz's face and straight to his ear. Bartz can feel Jecht's facial hair grazing his cheek and the way Jecht's hot breath wafts up against his skin.

"I can't fight you today. But I _can_ show you a different type of move."

A shiver races up Bartz's spine and he knows that Jecht notices it. His mind is racing and he can feel his heartbeat thudding throughout his body. Bartz finds his hands reaching past that tiny shred of distance between them. His fingertips touch Jecht's skin first and it's as though electricity shoots up his arms.

Bartz exhales slowly. He doesn't know why he's doing this while at the same time he does. It doesn't help, however, that Jecht pulls his head back so that their eyes can meet once more. The dark depths pull him in and refuse to let him go. He can only swallow hard as his fingers splay out over Jecht's skin.

"But only if you can do what you promised."

That has everything screeching to a halt. Not just because Bartz can't remember but because he _wants_ to. For once since coming to this world of Chaos versus Cosmos has he wanted to remember something. It didn't matter that the thoughts of his own world were gone upon awaking, he had solace in friendship and a goal. But this?

Bartz can feel something stirring in the pit of his stomach. Part of him _knows_ what he needs to do. Jecht tries not to let it show on his face – the impatience of realizing it might have just been a blip of memory and not all of it. He lets go of Bartz and is about to take a step back and shoo the boy off. "Forget it," he scoffs out.

The wandering hero's eyes widen at the thought of it being over. Not when he was so close! Bartz glides his hands up Jecht's chest to allow one to grab onto Jecht's shoulder while the other cups at the back of Jecht's neck. Fingers needy and quick, Bartz stands up tall so that he can smash his lips up against Jecht's.

It's not in the least bit romantic and is rather sloppy. It doesn't help that Bartz is quickly pulling back with his face growing a dark red. It's the complete opposite of the smirk that crawls its way onto Jecht's countenance.

"I guess you weren't kidding around."

Bartz cuts his eyes away, "You don't have to be mean about it."

Jecht grins as he cups the side of Bartz's face in his hand. Tilting the youth's head back, Jecht dares to ghost his lips close to Bartz's. "Then let me apologize," is all there is before Jecht's lips are back on his.

Bartz can barely breathe let alone think. All he knows is his back is suddenly pressed up against the stone and he can feel the coolness seeping through his shirt, touching his heated skin. Jecht braces one forearm against the sculpture as the other dips down to encircle Bartz's waist. Close is hardly what it can be called as they press together, lips parting only to allow their tongues to mingle between much needed breaths.

It's as if the lava isn't below them, pooling below the platform, and is instead running through their veins. Bartz, no matter how close they already are, presses himself flush up against Jecht. A silent plead for more of anything that the older man is willing to give. His hands find their way to Jecht's chest, trapped between their torsos as Jecht tries to break their kiss. While it may only be because they need to breathe, Bartz still condemns the action by lightly biting Jecht's bottom lip between his teeth. In retaliation Jecht moves one leg between Bartz's and presses his thigh up against the growing bulge.

"Ah- Ahh," he cries out as Jecht grinds his leg up against Bartz's crotch.

Jecht grins at him, taking in every inch of the lustful expression on Bartz's face, "That's better."

Pulling away just enough, Jecht moves his leg and replaces it with a hand. He's about to tease the boy further but Bartz is daring – something that Jecht finds admirable since the days he's beginning to forget. The hero surges forward and nuzzles his face against Jecht's chest; lips and tongue tracing the dark tattoo. All the while one hand travels south; past the waistband of Jecht's shorts and straight to the throbbing cock inside them.

Bartz eagerly takes a hold of it now matter how his fingers quiver at first. He doesn't have time to be nervous when the thick manhood twitches and throbs in his grasp. The smile that he looks up to see is only the distraction as a finger presses between his ass cheeks, rubbing where it shouldn't be.

He has to hold onto Jecht with his free hand, enraptured with the strange sensation that begins to consume him. So lost in the way the friction of the moving fabric against the tight bundle of muscles, Bartz doesn't even realize he's moving his hand in time with it. At least until something sticky and warm begins to coat his fingers.

Jecht suddenly stops and cups his hand at the back of Bartz's head, guiding him to tilt it back. The kiss that follows is heightened by the way Bartz wraps his fingers around the top of Jecht's cock. He gives a squeeze that makes Jecht growl against his lips as he pulls away, "Clothes off. Now."

Regretfully they take a few steps away from each other. But they do it in a hurry to get the fabric from their bodies far quicker than they'll be putting them back on. The clothes mix together on the ground, except for a small bottle that Bartz holds as he kneels over them. Jecht raises a brow while running a hand through the short brown tresses, "What'cha got there?" He leans forward a little a grins wide, "That's great, just what we need. "Just lay down, I'll take care of the rest."

Leaving the elixir for Jecht to deal with, Bartz knows he'll surely regret using it for this purpose. Elixirs are hard to come by after all. Bartz doesn't have it in him to question those words no matter how much his curiosity begs him to. The second his bare skin meets the stone he can't help but shiver. It's not exactly cold but it's much cooler than his flushed skin. He watches every move Jecht makes as the latter bends at the waist.

He doesn't understand why until suddenly Jecht's lifting his legs, bending them back toward Bartz's head. Jecht sits where Bartz's ass previously was. One of Jecht's own legs is on each side of Bartz's while his own are practically touching his head. The position itself has Bartz finally looking away, hand covering his mouth as he tries not to think about it.

But he can _feel_ Jecht's eyes on him; firm buttocks, his erection, the balls that are beneath that and between it all – his asshole. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Bartz spares a furtive glance back up at Jecht. Only to have those dark eyes meet his.

A hearty laugh leaves him, "Don't tell me you're getting shy now."

Bartz cuts his gaze away, mumbling against his hand, "No."

"Good, good..." Jecht trails off as he grabs for the elixir and pops the top off. He makes sure to not pour out too much into his hand – he'll need more for later too. The thick liquid warms between his hands before he dares to place it over Bartz's twitching hole. At first he only uses one finger to prod it inside before sticking the whole finger in.

He's enamored with the muffled sounds of surprise and growing pleasure that come from the brunet. While he dutifully loosens the muscles that push and wrap against his finger, Jecht can't help but tease him. "I'm not being to rough am I?"

The smirk on his countenance dulls the sincere words even though he's being far from rough to begin with. Bartz glares at him and is about to answer when a second finger suddenly slips inside with the other – stretching him out each time he tries to form words. Finally he reaches toward Jecht, knowing he can't reach.

"Mo.. More!" he cries out with a broken breath.

"That's more like it."

Jecht's other hand grabs for the brunet's balls. He absently massages them as he continues to soften the hold the ring of muscles have on his, now, three fingers. Bartz is practically panting as his cock bounces with the movements. Droplets of precum spot his stomach and chest, more coming out each time Jecht shoves his fingers in up to his knuckles. He knows if Jecht keeps this up then he won't be lasting for very much longer.

Bartz drags a hand up his face, trying to cover the embarrassment even still. The other hand seems to have a different idea as he slides it down his stomach, towards his aching member. It strikes Jecht rather hard in his own groin as it comes off rather sexy. Not to mention the way a moan tries to beat the words that leave Bartz's lips, "J- Jecht… that's enough… already."

Jecht pulls his fingers free from Bartz's hole, rather pleased that it didn't take _as_ long as he would have thought. He'd rather Bartz be prepared than not though. Not that it stops him form pulling the hero back upright and pouring the remainder of the elixir on his own erection. There's a learning curve to settling with his back against the stone monument while getting Bartz to kneel over his lap. Luckily the hero learns quick.

Although he's already seeing stars by the time Jecht's hands are on his hips, steadying him. His heart is thudding loud in his ears as he takes a deep breath, swallowing hard. It's too late to back out now – not that he'd want to. Reaching down below, past his cock, and toward Jecht's own throbbing member he can't help but hesitate. He tries not to think about where it'll be going in and instead making sure it's pointed where it needs to be.

Their eyes are what remain locked as Jecht leans forward. It's only as the tip of the pulsating member pushes past the tight ring of muscles that Jecht kisses him. A deep kiss that drowns out any noise Bartz can make as he pushes himself down even further. Little by little he takes the large girth inside of him. It's a slow process of his quivering fingers clutching tighter and then loosening on Jecht's shoulders.

Crescents mark Jecht's skin each time but the slight sting of pain is a welcomed one. Compared to the slick, wet heat that wraps around his cock, he'll take that tinge of annoyance with glee each time Bartz gives his shoulders a squeeze. It's only once he's sitting on Jecht's lap that Bartz pulls away from the kiss, slumping forward against Jecht's chest.

Heavy panting is all that Jecht is greeted with as Bartz wiggles his hips experimentally here and there. Jecht's next breath is a sharp intake as he reaches down, grabbing two handfuls of Bartz's rear – forcing him to stop moving. Bartz tilts his head up, looking at him as he continues to hold onto the broad chest. There's a silent question and it has Jecht smirking at him, "Any more of that and I won't be able to hold back."

Bartz seems to ponder on that for a moment; about if he should dare test that theory. However, seeing as his lower body is screaming in pleasure and knowing he'll be sore later anyway – Bartz pushes against Jecht's chest. His hips give a small and slow lift just before a quick fall. Jecht grunts in response, having to bite back his own moan as Bartz pushes their mouths together.

The twerp dares to lick at Jecht's lips and it releases the last lock – no holding back now. The Chaos warrior tightens his grip on Bartz's cheeks and guides him to lift up until they're almost separate. Bartz is too busy working his tongue against Jecht's to pay the intention any mind. Jecht allows him to dominate the kiss but only because he's bringing Bartz back down just as he's thrusting up into him.

"Nngh!"

The one solid motion has Bartz arching his back and sitting up right, unable to stop his body's reaction as a moan quickly overtakes the surprised grunt. Tongue still hanging slightly over his bottom lip he can do nothing as Jecht presses up against the one spot that has his vision sparkling. Jecht spares one hand to reach up toward Bartz's chin. He cups at the side of the boy's face, his thumb daring to slip past those parted lips.

Bartz is breathing heavily after that and yet his hips dare to try and move – to make that happen again. Jecht doesn't fail to take notice either. Seeing that he'd much rather be the one dealing out the pleasure, he secures a hold on Bartz and slowly switches their positions. The next thing Bartz knows is that his back is against the stone with his hair tussled about his face.

His attention, however, remains locked on Jecht the entire time. The movement has strange feelings filling him since Jecht pulls out to make sure he's comfortable before settling between spread legs. Although Bartz is quick to pull him in close and wrap his legs around Jecht's waist. Like hell he'll be waiting for Jecht to make the next move this time.

Large hands roughly grab at his hips as Jecht pushes back inside of him in one agonizingly slow thrust. Bartz meets the next one with a slight roll of his hips, trying to get Jecht deeper and faster. Each pump of Jecht's hips has Bartz mewling with pleasure. Jecht is focused as he drills himself into Bartz, skin garnering a light sheen of sweat in the process.

They both know they won't last long. It's too hot and everything is too tight – the pressure unbearable. As he gets closer, Jecht slides his hands up Bartz's body. He forgets about the slight jolt of pain that arches up from his knees and focuses only on pushing his tongue deep into Bartz's mouth. The latter's eyelashes flutter shut as he wraps his arms around Jecht's shoulder, finger delving up into the black tresses.

One large hand becomes trapped between their bodies as Jecht pushes Bartz over the edge. It only takes a few strong strokes and putting the right amount of pressure on the tip of Bartz's member to do it. The sticky white cum covers their stomachs as Bartz moans wildly into their kiss, completely lost in the pleasure.

Jecht is no different. The second Bartz climaxes and tightens even further down around him, he can't hold himself back. A handful more thrusts of his hips has him buried as deep into the slender man as he can go as he cums. Bartz can think of nothing other than the way Jecht peppers his lips with gentle kisses as he slowly crawls back down to reality.

Bartz stops him in the midst of another, one hand sliding down Jecht's neck and lingering on part of the tattoo splayed across his chest. Jecht can only grin as the brunet draws him in for a soft liplock, one that has him happily muttering a small tease that earns him a small bite to his lip.

"Won't forget me next time will ya?"

* * *

 _'w' I ship it. 'nuff said._


End file.
